


When is my time?

by A_Pinch_Of_Sage



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Don’t you hate when your best friend exiles you and leaves you to die, Gen, Heavy Angst, Others are only mentioned, References to Depression, Screw lmanberg homies hate government, Suicidal Thoughts, Tommy is alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Pinch_Of_Sage/pseuds/A_Pinch_Of_Sage
Summary: “Waterfalls of magma slowly trickled down and gathered into man-made pools on the floor. It was blazing, scorching enough to make any person’s skin melt.And yet, Tommy has never felt so cold.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	When is my time?

**Author's Note:**

> First official fic pogchamp. This is my introduction to the Dream SMP fandom, I guess. 
> 
> This fic is based off fan art my friend made, so if seeing this, Ghost, then hi! (Follow them on Twitter @BemotheClown)

Ever since he got exiled, The Nether became a second home for Tommy. 

Sure, it was a hot, fiery pit of despair filled with horrifying monsters and equally terrifying sounds, but it was a break from The Overworld. Here, he could explore as much as he wanted without worry. No rules or restrictions to hold him back.

An endless sea of lava stretched out for hundreds of miles, lighting up the shadows of underground caves and abandoned fortresses. The ceiling was high off the ground, high enough that you had to crane your head all the way back to see the speckles of quartz and bedrock mixed in with the netherrack. Waterfalls of magma slowly trickled down and gathered into man made pools on the floor. It was blazing, scorching enough to make any person’s skin melt. 

And yet, Tommy has never felt so cold. 

He sat on one of the many netherrack cliffs with his legs dangling over the edge. His clothes were dirt-stained and wrinkled, shoelaces loosely tied and hair unkempt. Tired would be the right word to describe him if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by. 

His expression was blank. Blue eyes that were normally full of life and energy were a muddled grey-blue. Downcasted. 

It was one of those days—where the world felt like it was slowly caving in on him. Any other day, he would burn off his pent-up frustration by fighting armies of mobs. Sometimes, he’d climb to the top of the highest nether fortress tower to scream at the top of his lungs, knowing damn well no one could hear him.

No one ever heard him. 

Yeah, today was one of those days where he wasn’t focused on anything but his despair. Blue eyes foggy and unfocused. He didn’t care about exploring the biomes, or fighting off the ghast that was slowly approaching him, or going through the nether portal that was whirring behind him. 

No, Tommy wasn’t focused on anything but the lava. 

The orange pool that was directly beneath him, slowly bubbling and emitting an uncontrollable heat. Unlike water, lava was slow and heavy, like quicksand, and you couldn’t escape once you fell in. You could try and swim out, claw at the nether rack blocks above you, or scream at the top of your lungs, begging for someone to help you as you slowly burned. But it was pointless.  
You would slowly roast, skin and bones melting away and breaking down until there was nothing left. In just a few moments, you would cease to exist. Maybe that’s why Tommy was so drawn to it—there was nothing left to be taken from him, so he wanted to see how he could be destroyed. 

He wondered how deep the lava went. Would he reach the bottom before he died? The more he thought about it, the more he could feel the burning, melting sensation on his skin. He scratched his arm, hoping that it would relieve the invisible itch on his skin. 

Who knew how far down it went and how long it would take for him to die. Tommy wanted to explore its depth. He couldn’t look away from it. He could escape, he could finally be free. It was the opportunity he was waiting for and it was presented to him on a silver platter. 

And damn, it was tempting. Being given the chance to forget everything and everyone he loved. He had already lost them once, so it wouldn’t matter if he lost them again. He was used to the pain, so used to it that it was almost comforting and that made It draining. This was his ticket to freedom. His get out of jail free card, if you will. 

It’s not like he was scared of death, he has long since accepted the concept of dying. It was natural and sometimes it was unnatural. After all, he was already dead, mentally. He's been dead for a long time, and at this point, he was just a body without a soul. A lonely ghost left to wander a lonely world. 

He was all alone. 

Tommy Innit died a long time ago. The day he was exiled from L’amburg—by his best friend of all people, the one person he loved and trusted more than anyone else—was the day that he died. Unofficially, of course. He didn’t get a funeral or anything. Just a closed off look from Tubbo, and a harsh shove and demand to start walking from Dream. 

And that was it. That was all he got. His final goodbye to everyone he loved and it wasn’t even a proper one. 

That was true pain, and nothing could ever, ever compare to the way his heart broke that day. Shattered to pieces, too small and broken to put back together. Now, nothing could compare to that. Not even if he fell off a cliff into a burning pool of magma that melted his face off. 

Beneath him, the ground was rough and warm, causing the skin of his bandaged hands to sweat. Soul sand and nether rack covered the ground around him. There would be the occasional pocket of quartz, specks of white contrasting against the swirling hues of dark red and orange. 

His skin was clammy, hands cramping up from spaying on the ground for too long. That was partially due to the few nether rack blocks around him that burned infinitely. The sounds of the cracking fire, the sizzling of an eternal flame that would never go out, were strangely soothing to him. 

Sweat gathered on the span of his forehead, dampening the blonde tips. His clothes uncomfortably stuck to his sweaty skin. He didn’t have his armor either, so the blistering heat was slowly getting to him. 

Tommy ignored the uncomfortable feeling settling in his bones. He didn’t care what happened to himself anymore, he felt...numb. It was like someone carved open his chest and ripped his heart out, leaving behind a dark, empty cave. 

He was a hollow shell, a ghost of his former self. Nothing drove him anymore: he woke up, got out of bed, and continued on with his life. Even if it felt like everything was crumbling around him in his mind and he was going to fall through the cracks, he kept going.

Why did he keep going?

What else was keeping him here? 

He already lost everything: his friends who he loved more than anything, the country which he fought his last dying breath for, and his best friend who he spent his entire life protecting. 

He felt a dull ache in his chest. It was familiar, something that Tommy has felt time and time again. 

The lava bubbled beneath him, a solid reminder of where he was and what he could do. All it would take is one step. 

Tommy sighed and pushed himself to a stand. He swayed on the edge of the cliff, feet planted firmly on the ground. His hands lay limp at his sides, like his body was subconsciously preparing for the fall. 

He was standing on the edge now, nothing was stopping him from falling in. All it would take is one step. 

The final act of his performance. 

His mind wanders back to That Day. That day he was standing in the same spot he was now. 

Back then, he wasn’t alone. The others were hovering near the nether portal, unsure if they could approach Tommy after everything that went down. Dream was the only one who wasn’t scared. He was off to the side, silently watching Tommy’s troubled expression. He knew what he was thinking, it was obvious from how close the blond was to the edge of the cliff, the way his spine subconsciously arched forward. Like he was ready to plunge at any moment. Neither of them spoke, Tommy’s thoughts were loud enough for the both of them.

Tommy had inched forward, a small step closer. It was a slight action that would go unbothered if they weren’t paying attention, but Dream noticed. He had decided that enough was enough, and raced to action. A single hit knocked the blond backwards, away from the edge, away from his freedom. 

Dream had patched up the cliff with dirt, creating a safe platform with no holes to fall through and no lava to drown in. 

“It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy,” he had said and patted his friend on the shoulder. Tommy had frowned, his eyes downcast. 

“It’s never my time to die,” he had responded dully. 

Tommy clenched his fist. Hard. His fingernails pierced the skin of his palm. The pain snapped him out of his daze. His eyes lowered to the ground beneath him, the lava stared back. 

When is my time, he wondered.

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s the end of this fic! All of my works will be centered around angst, so prepare yourselves for that. You can leave requests for characters too, if you want.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated :)


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